- Non-Erotic Poetry
- A Pound of Flesh
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Sunburnt in my traitor cage
the occupying army made
I cursed the family radio
World War II had listened to.
But in pellucid moments
I liked that pissant cage
where they watched me write my Cantos
waiting for my prison fate
and even in the outdoor loo
my guard of honor noticed,
holding his proboscis,
Pestilentia Manufacta
I scribbled on some arsewipe
squatting in the Pisan sun
making jurisprudence, noses
and perhaps the hangman wait.
- COMMENTS
twelveooneover 11 years agoin the pound
getting back to this, i was disappointed that the lines were too short, and even after reading something like 20 poems, this was too short, that says something
greenmountaineerover 11 years agoAuthorYou're right about the title. It may give someone the impression that Pound was unjustly accused like Shakespeare's Shylock instead of one who railed against the bankers, I.e., the Rothschilds, during his propaganda radio broadcasts under Mussolini. Maybe "No Pound of Flesh" would have been better or something entirely different.
As to the first line, I think Pound's initial incarceration in Italy was "al fresco."
twelveooneover 11 years agonot sure of the title, rather don't like it, i know, i know, something to do with that Shakespearean thing and pound's antisemitism
not sure of your purpose for the 1st stanza,
do love the last
